The Lost Chord

[m1469]

In my preparations for playing for the Sunday service tomorrow, I happened upon this little sacred work.  I had not known of this before and I don't know if it's familiar to people or not, but I can't help post the poem here, written by Adelaide Anne Procter.

Seated one day at the organ,
I was weary and ill at ease,
And my fingers wander'd idly,
Over the noisy keys;

I know not what I was playing,
Or what I was dreaming then;
But I struck one chord of music
like the sound of a great Amen.
Like the sound of a great Amen.

It flooded the crimson twilight
Like the close of an angel's psalm,
And it lay on my fever'd spirit,
With a touch of infinite calm,

It quieted pain and sorrow,
Like love overcoming strife,
It seem'd the harmonious echo
From our discordant life,

It link'd all perplexed meanings,
Into one perfect peace,
And trembled away into silence,
As if it were loth to cease;

I have sought, but I seek it vainly,
That one lost chord divine,
Which came from the soul of the organ,
And enter'd into mine.

It may be that Death's bright Angel,
Will speak in that chord again,
It may be that only in Heav'n
I shall hear that grand Amen.

It may be that Death's bright Angel,
Will speak that chord again,
It may be that only in Heav'n
I shall hear that grand Amen.

[m1469]

Yeah, this kind of sums up the main problem with the world today.  Many people, both musically educated and not, do not fully grasp the gravity of a fantastically phrased cadence

[ted]

Yeah, this kind of sums up the main problem with the world today.  Many people, both musically educated and not, do not fully grasp the gravity of a fantastically phrased cadence

I certainly do, and the sort of effect described in the poem is precisely why I improvise. Of course as far as discerning actual notes played, these days we have all manner of cheap and accurate recording devices, possibly unavailable when the poem was written. Nothing need ever really be lost, especially with harmony, although rhythm could still be very elusive.

Then again, if "chord" is taken metaphorically to mean any feature of intense but transient beauty, the romantic sentiment expressed is still perfectly valid, and every improvisation contains dozens of such irretrievable moments, the vicarious pleasure of recordings notwithstanding.

[faulty_damper]

Yeah, this kind of sums up the main problem with the world today.  Many people, both musically educated and not, do not fully grasp the gravity of a fantastically phrased cadence

I was annoyed by the strict adherence to rhyme at the cost of ideas/imagery.  The cadences of the poem really annoyed me as the phrasing stopped after each line of the quatrains.  I'm still annoyed right now!   


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Pisses me OFF!